


Whiskers On Kittens

by Hatterized



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Negan with a cat, Slice of Life, some introspective Negan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-06 11:31:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11599752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatterized/pseuds/Hatterized
Summary: Negan takes a liking to a stray cat that's been prowling around the Sanctuary and decides to let her tag along for a weekly Alexandria pickup.





	1. Chapter 1

It was that goddamned motherfucking _cat_.

For the last two weeks, _two whole fucking weeks_ , Negan had been wondering what that smell was. It came and went, always seemed to be coming from somewhere new, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what the hell was causing it. At first the sickly smell of death had permeated through the dining hall and there had been some panic, people having thought that it was a person that had keeled over somewhere, or one of the dead had managed to amble in through the gates. In the end, it had turned out to be two-thirds of a squirrel carcass discovered in one of the air ducts.

Three days later, it was a chipmunk left to fester under a table in the rec room. Then another in the vents above the showers, and so on. For two fucking weeks. At some point along the line, between the third squirrel and the fucking _rabbit_ that had wound up wedged in an impossibly high up gap between crates of medical supplies in the storage area, Negan caught on to the fact that these animals weren’t just randomly deciding to bite the big one all over the goddamned Sanctuary. Something was hunting them and leaving them lying around, half-eaten and stinking to high heaven.

And today, when he strode into his bedroom to find a dead bird in the middle of his neatly made bed and a scruffy-looking black cat licking itself clean of feathers, he realized he’d caught the culprit red-pawed.

He closed the door behind him quietly as to not startle it- he wasn’t sure what the hell to do now that he’d caught the little fucker, but he wasn’t about to just let it run right off and continue to leave animal corpses lying around for him to clean up.

There were small smears of blood on his nice gray comforter- _annoying_ , he thought. “Those had better fucking come out with a good wash, you little hairball,” he muttered. “I fucking like that blanket.”

He edged toward the bed, not wanting it to run off- or, god forbid, start hissing and spitting. Turns out, he didn’t need to worry- as soon as he plunked down, the cat sidled right up to him, crawling into his lap with dirty paws and proceeding to climb right up his arm and wind around his shoulders like a furry little snake.

Negan glared, eyes narrowed at shiny green ones. “You’d better not scratch up my jacket, fucker.”

He got a friendly, soft _meow_ in return.

_Fucking cute. Dammit._

He’d always liked cats- Lucille had lovingly teased him about it before: big ‘ol tough guy, all bark and no bite, best friend to all the stray cats. They just seemed to find him, little scrawny wild things that lived in the woods behind their house.

“I don’t know why they’re always fucking coming to me,” he’d insisted over and over again.

“It’s because you keep fucking _feeding them_ ,” Lucille had laughed. And she hadn’t minded, not in the least. In fact, more than once, she’d suggested making the cats a permanent part of their family.

“They’ve tried to follow me into the car already. We could take them to the vet, get them fixed up. You know I love ‘em almost as much as you do, baby.”

Negan always turned her down when she suggested it. Had assloads of excuses, each more pathetic than the next: didn’t want to clean the litter box, didn’t want to get pay to them microchipped, didn’t want to deal with them scratching up furniture.

She saw right through it, he knew that. He’d used similarly weak arguments whenever they’d discussed that _other_ thing that he didn’t like talking about.

He didn’t like getting attached, and he didn’t like begin responsible for the well-being of something so helpless. God knows he was never going to admit to _that_ , though.

Funny how life worked. He’d spent his pre-apocalypse adulthood avoiding being responsible for another human life, and now he was responsible for so many that he sometimes lost count.

He wasn’t resentful, exactly. Not of the people. More of himself, for all those stupid fucking years he’d spent denying himself and Lucille something that they’d truly wanted together.

He looked at the cat, resting comfortably over his broad shoulders like a furry black scarf. Its tail twitched, swatting him in the face, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d have said the damn thing looked pleased with itself.

 _Fuck_.

Negan grabbed the radio off of his belt, making a call down to Dwight. “Dwighty boy! Have someone get the fuck up here. Got another dead bird that needs dumping.” The cat rumbled a happy purr, like it knew what he was going to say next. Negan sighed deeply, resigned. “And bring me one of those fucking cans of cat food we use for the dipshit training center.”

For his generosity, he got swatted in the face with a tail again.

* * *

If any of the Saviors had something to say about their boss being followed around by a pint-size furball, nobody dared speak up. After a week, nobody glanced twice when he strolled in with the cat perched on his shoulder or padding along after him. Except possibly Simon, whom the cat seemed to hate with a singular passion.

“Fuck! Yeah, that’s about fucking right,” he’d muttered the first time he’d gone in to pet it and had received a swipe of claws in return. “Cats never did like me. I was always more of a gerbil man, myself.”

Amber and Frankie, on the other hand, adored the little guy. Negan counted that as a solid win- anything that got his girls excited and grinning was worth keeping around, in his book.

Plus, not that he was going to admit it, it was nice having something warm and alive nested up next to him at night, even if it was a six-pound sack of fur.

* * *

“It’s coming with us to Alexandria?” Simon asked warily, eyeing the cat with trepidation. “You sure, boss? What if it runs off?”

Negan snorted. “She’ll be fine. You scared she’s gonna try to give you a little shave again, Simon? Looks like you could use it, you’re getting a little bushy,” he teased, just to see Simon pout and comb at his prized mustache with his long fingers.

“It’s _supposed_ to be. And _no_ , I’m not scared of her. She’s just fucking-” he trailed off at Negan’s death glare. “She’s fucking great,” he grumbled. “I’m sure you having a kitten on your shoulder will scare the pants right off them. Let’s go.”

“Wouldn’t mind scaring the pants off of Rick…” Negan mused as Simon pulled out and onto the road, petting the cat in his lap thoughtfully.

Simon groaned again, deeply grieved by this turn in the conversation. “I know. Trust me, I _know_.”

“Bet he looks good without pants,” he continued. “You think you can do that for me, you little asshole?” he cooed at the cat. “Think you can help me get into Rick Grimes’ tight little pants?”

“I swear to Christ, if I have to spend the whole ride to Alexandria listening to you talk about Rick Grimes’ ass again, I’m going to fucking puke out the window. You described it in so much detail last week that I had trouble looking him in the eye after.”

Negan grinned. “As long as you fucking do it out the window, I don’t give a single shit, Simon.”

* * *

Negan took it as a sign of just how fucking well he’d whipped Alexandria into shape that he didn’t catch a single sidelong glance at the cat on his shoulder. Granted, he didn’t catch a lot of glances at all- most of the people here avoided his gaze like he would turn them to stone- or their head into mincemeat- if they looked at him the wrong way.

 _Yeah_ , he figured, _that was probably fair._ Not that he would ever kill someone over a stray look- he wasn’t _that_ unreasonable. He’d probably give them shit about it until they dropped their gaze, though. He’d done as much to Rick before, that first week.

 _Careful how you’re lookin’ at me_ , Rick, he’d warned, both loving at hating the dangerous glare he’d been catching from the man. If he was being honest with himself, he fucking adored that little spark of rebellion in Rick’s blue eyes- it was anger and hate and something else, something ineffable that was so goddamned _hot_ that it was very nearly distracting to be around. It made him restless, made him want to take the man by the hips and shove him up against the nearest wall, maybe get those legs wrapped around his waist and-

_Distracting._

Not a problem, though, because the helpless, broken look in Rick’s eyes when Negan had made him drop his fiery gaze was also downright delicious.

Today, Negan was more than a little miffed that Rick wasn’t out front to greet him. He’d never outright told Rick that that was expected of him, but he’d felt it was unnecessary- Rick had always been there before, a ghost at his side, watchful and vigilant like he was making sure that Negan held up his end of the bargain and didn’t take too much. That lack of trust chafed him a little, but it had only been a couple months- Rick would see, in time, that he was a man of his word.

“Where’s Rick?” Negan chirped when spotted Carl seemingly filling in for Rick’s watchdog role. Carl, who was never one to hold back on the stink-eyes where Negan was concerned. This time was no different- the kid took one look at the can on his shoulder and gave him an impressively unimpressed glare.

“What the hell is that?”

Negan roared out a laugh, always amused by just how ballsy Rick’s kid was. “It’s a fucking _cat_ , kid! I know the world went to shit when you were pretty young, but surely you still know your fucking animal shapes, right?”

“Why the hell is it on your shoulder?”

“Because she fucking likes it there. You got a goddamn problem with that?” he challenged, “And you never answered my fucking question: where’s your daddy?”

Carl’s good eye seemed to twitch every time Negan talked about Rick. Like he knew _exactly_ what Negan's intentions were with Alexandria's leader. Negan reveled in it. “He’s at home. Judith woke up from her nap and he’s trying to put her back down.”

This was of interest to Negan- he loved Rick’s little girl, much to Rick and Carl’s horror. “Well, him not being here simply will not fucking do, kid. Take me to him.”

Carl’s eye narrowed. “I just told you that he’s busy, asshole.”

At that, Negan met Carl’s glare with one of his own. “And I told you to take me to him anyway. I fucking sound like I’m dicking around? Did I miss some fucking memo that says I’m gonna be takin’ orders from you, kid? Because I sure as shit don’t remember getting that.”

Carl breathed out heavily through his nose, reminding Negan of a bull ready to charge. He almost felt bad for goading him- _almost_ , he liked the kid- but he wasn’t about to stand down because Carl decided to smartmouth him. “Fine,” Carl hissed through clenched teeth.

Negan’s grin returned. “Fucking great! Knew you’d come around, kid.”

He followed after Carl, a spring in his step. This was by far his favorite part of their weekly Alexandria pickups. Nothing better than getting to see a hot guy get flustered and flushed while you grinned down at him, and that was exactly what Negan got out of Rick with all his antagonizing.

Rick was never nearly as happy to see him, but that was just how shit went sometimes.

He strolled into Rick’s house and right up the stairs, making a beeline for Judith’s bedroom despite Carl’s snippy protests of _he’s trying to get her to go back to sleep_.

There was something about seeing Rick with Judith that made Negan’s heard melt in his chest- that sweet, unguarded parental adoration that was so pure, so selfless. That feeling of _goddamn, this is the cutest shit I’ve ever seen_ usually lasted a few seconds before the feeling of jealousy crept in at the edges. He hated that right now, standing in the doorway and watching Rick rock Judith on his hip, his voice soft in a way that Negan knew was only because he didn’t know he was being watched. He hated that gut-deep feeling of jealousy and the knowledge that no matter what, he could never have that kind of tenderness, that kind of selfless love for a child of his own.

Not for the first time, he hated that cowardly man he’d been when he was younger. Lucille had deserved so much more than him, so many times over.

Judith noticed him first, her blue eyes going wide when she spotted him over Rick’s shoulder. She made a gurgly giggle that made Negan light up- only to realize that the smile she wore wasn’t for him. Rick turned, met him with a scowl, and Judith’s chubby arms reached out to Negan’s shoulder, to the kitten still perched there. Rick’s eyes fixated there too, confusion swimming.

“Why do you have a cat?” He asked, eyeing her warily.

“Because I fucking _want_ to have a cat, Rick. You got a problem with that?”

Rick bit the inside of his lip, and if Negan didn’t know any better he would have sworn that the smaller man was suppressing a laugh. “It just sit like that all day? On your shoulder?”

“Sure does. She fucking loves me. And your litter girl seems to love her,” he nodded at the still-reaching Judith, and Rick pulled their girl a little closer to his chest.

“Can you take it out of here?” Negan’s eyes narrowed, and Rick scrambled to cover his rudeness. “I don’t want her to get scratched or bitten or something.”

“She doesn’t bite, and she won’t scratch anyone but Simon. C’mon, Rick. Let her play.”

Rick got this look sometimes when Negan talked- like he was being forced to swallow a mouthful of something sour, his face all pinched and strained. It never failed to make Negan want to tease the hell out of him. Which he was just about to do- when the cat leapt off of his shoulder and onto the floor, winding herself charmingly around Rick’s ankles, purring like a motorboat.

And, like absolute magic, Rick softened like butter, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his pretty lips. “Fine,” he muttered, lowering Judith onto the floor. “But if that cat so much as hisses at her-”

“Then I’m sure you’ll go full papa bear and kick her right out. Take a fucking pill, Rick. Relax. They’ll be fine.”

Rick’s eye twitched a little at being told to _take a fucking pill_ , but he had the sense to let it pass. He settled down on the floor across from Judith, back to the nursery wall, and Negan followed suit, placing Lucille against the far wall. He was pleased when Rick didn’t shrug away from the closeness, letting their knees bump when Negan sat beside him. “So. That thing have a name?” he asked.

“Not really,” Negan shrugged. “Not an official one, at least. I’ve just been calling her _asshole_ or _little fucker_. Shit like that.”

“Would’ve thought you’d have named her already. What with you namin’ that thing and all.” Rick gestured to Lucille.

“Lucille’s a special case,” Negan muttered, a little more wistfully that he’d intended. He could Feel Rick’s eyes on him then, his blue gaze curious and searching.

“What’s it mean?” Rick asked boldly. “ _Lucille_. She somebody you knew?”

Negan watched as Judith giggled and patted at the cat playfully. “Yeah,” he said, surprising even himself with the admission. “She was.”

“Was she your daughter?” Rick asked quietly, his voice gentler than Negan had ever thought he’d hear it. Negan shorted, shaking his head.

“Nah. Never had kids. What the fuck made you think that?”

“I don’t know. You took an awful quick likin’ to Judith is all. It’s like you’re a different person when you’re around her.”

“Never had kids. I didn’t…I wanted them, but I didn’t.” He was quiet for a moment, contemplating if he should even say the rest of the words threatening to spill from him.

“They’re a lot of work,” Rick conceded.

“Lucille always wanted them, though,” Negan said quietly, and he felt Rick turn to him again. “Even when we first started dating. Not that we were fucking…fucking trying to get knocked up then or anything. It wasn’t like that. She was just…she was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted, right from the fucking get-go. Told me on our first fucking date that she wanted marriage and kids, didn’t bat a goddamn eye about it.”

“What’d you tell her?”

“I told her that if she wanted all that on the first date, we probably should have gone somewhere other than the goddamn movie theater.” Negan smiled sadly at the memory, faded and worn at the edges as it was. Beside him, Rick made a soft sound that Negan realized after a moment was a _laugh_.

A fucking laugh. From Rick fucking Grimes. And he thought he’d given up on miracles a long time ago. He turned to Rick then, their shoulders pressing together, and met his eyes. For once, there wasn’t hate and disgust roiling there- there was something soft, and understanding.

“Good to know you used to care about someone. That you’re capable of it.”

Negan leaned in a little closer, enough that he could hear the hitch in Rick’s breathing when it quickened. “There’s a whole fucking lot more that I’m capable of than you know, Rick. You wait and see.”

Rick did it again- that almost-smile- and all Negan wanted to do was lean in a little further, close the gap between them and see what kind of look Rick would have if their lips met. He settled for the smile, though.

For now.

Carl stomped in then, taking in the scene- Rick and Negan leaning into each other on the floor, Judith playing with the cat- and scowled so hard it was a wonder that his jaw didn’t ache. “Your people are leaving, asshole,” he spat at Negan. “You can go now.”

Negan suppressed an annoyed grunt and pushed to his feet, collecting _little fucker_ off the floor while Rick scooped up Judith, who seemed more worn out after tying to toddle around to keep up with the cat. He thought he heard Rick mutter something under his breath to Carl about _watching his mouth_ , and he snorted.

“Well, I don’t know about you, Rick, but I think today’s been a real goddamn success.” He grinned impishly, one hand sliding down Rick’s shoulders to settle on the small of his back, just to see that adorable pink flush creep across his face.

“I, ah,” Rick muttered, dodging his eyes. “Next week.”

“Next week,” Negan agreed, looking Rick up and down once more before turning on his heels. Halfway down the stairs, Rick’s voice made him freeze.

“Negan. Next week, if you wanna…bring your cat again. To play with Judith, I mean…that would be alright. She seems to like her.”

Negan threw Rick a winsome smile over his shoulder. “Sounds like a nice little playdate, Rick.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect people to want a part two to this, but here's a short and sweet follow up. Enjoy!

Each time Negan brought Little Fucker over for a playdate with Judith, it worked out in his favor. He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t dare question it, either. Whatever got him taking steps forward into Rick’s good graces was alright by him.

The second time, Rick seemed to sense that Negan had put himself on the line last time with his admission about Lucille, so he stepped up. On the floor of Judith’s nursery, right knee bumping Negan’s left, he told Negan about his wife, Lori. How they’d loved each other but had intertwined their lives at such a young age that they’d brought a lot of immaturity to their marriage: her anger and sharp tongue, his communication issues and withdrawn nature. He’d opened up about the mess with him being in a coma when the world went to hell, how he wasn’t sure if Judith was even his flesh and blood, but that she was his daughter regardless. Negan barely had to do a thing and it all just came pouring out of him like a dam had burst within Rick. Negan had to wonder if he’d ever sat down with someone and truly talked all of that shit out.

 _Communication issues_ , he reminded himself _. Probably not._

When Negan left that second time, Rick seemed visibly lighter- his shoulders less hunched, frown less pronounced. Maybe it was just Negan’s wishful thinking, but he thought he saw that almost-smile Rick had done last time just as he was leaving.

The third time was more relaxed, talking about what they did before the world went to shit, and it was that time- and Negan now fully believed in the saying _third time’s the charm_ \- that he got an actual laugh out of Rick Grimes. Sure, it was at his expense since he’d been telling Rick about how he’d worked as a high school gym coach, and how one particular student with the hand-eye coordination of a toaster had nearly knocked him clear into the next semester with an ill-aimed volleyball, but he'd still made it happen.

Rick’s laugh was deep and sweet and Negan decided on the spot that the lump on his head he’d had after the volleyball incident had been well worth it if it meant he got to hear that sound.

He's managed to pull smiles out of Rick the two times after that, but this week, Negan was determined to hear that laugh again.

Rick didn’t meet him at front gates anymore. After the second time, Negan told him to just stay at his house and he would come to him. He liked it better that way, just walking straight into Rick’s house, being welcome there. It felt nice, knowing there was somewhere in Alexandria that he wouldn’t get a dirty look for strolling into.

Rick was in the living room with Judith, sitting cross-legged on the floor while she wobbily toddled between him and Carl. He swore that Little Fucker recognized her- the kitten let out a loud, happy-sounding mewl and scaled his arm to leap to the floor and dart over to Rick and his kids, playfully bumping up against Rick’s knee.

“Hey, Rick!” Negan plopped himself down onto the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. “Carl,” he nodded in acknowledgment as the kid shot him a glare that he though was possibly less heated than usual. Judith toddled over and smiled up at him, all blonde curls and chubby cheeks, and Negan couldn’t help but grin right back down at her. “Hey there, darlin’. Brought your buddy back to play.”

As if on cue, the cat wound around Judith’s ankles, and the girl shirked delightedly and reached down to pet her. Carl gave a grunt and pushed himself to his feet. “Gonna go…somewhere else. See if Tara’s back from her run yet. Bye, dad.”

“Well good-freakin’-bye to you too, kid!” Negan called after him, and Rick rolled his eyes, settling himself on the couch beside Negan. “You hear that, Rick? I’m takin’ all your criticism about swearing in front of your little angel straight to heart. That’s just the kind of guy I am.”

Rick looked like he wanted to smile but thought better of it. _Damn_. “Thanks.” His attention slowly shifted from Negan back to Judith and her feline playmate, who was happily chasing a feathery cat toy that Rick had surprised him with on playdate number three. Negan had grinned and made way too big a deal out of the gift, telling Rick that he was really stepping the fuck up and coming around to him, to which Rick had responded by glaring up at him and thrusting the toy into his hands, muttering that _it's really more for Judith anyway_. 

Progress was progress, whether Rick wanted to own up to it or not. 

"You really should come up with a name for her," Rick said, stretching his socked feet out to rest on the coffee table beside Negan's.

"She has one. It's Little Fucker." Negan dramatically dropped his voice at the curse, hoping to provoke Rick into laughter, but all it did was earn him a sassy sort of look that made him want to lay Rick out on the couch in a way that wasn't entirely appropriate with a child present. 

"That's a terrible name. You know that, right?" A smirk played on the corners of Rick's mouth, and Negan felt himself returning it. 

"It's a great name, Rick. If you lived with her, you'd know that it's damn accurate, too. She's always gettin' into trouble. Yesterday I woke up to her chewing up my shoelaces. I'm worried she's gonna try to use Lucille as a scratching post. I'd say the barbed wire would be a deterrent, but I really think she'd just take it as a challenge and scratch her right back."

That earned him a truly charming snort of laughter from Rick. "She needs a name I can tell Judith. I've just been callin' her _the kitty_ , but-" He broke off at Negan's wide grin. "What?"

"Nothin', Rick. You saying _kitty_ is just really fucking cute, that's all."

Rick grumbled, pink tinting his cheeks. "Need to get you a swear jar. Every time you swear in front of Judith I put somethin' in and that's how much of your tribute you leave behind that week."

Negan chuckled. "Like you'd be able to enforce it."

"I could try," Rick teased back. "You keep sayin' you're a man of your word. You did say you'd stop swearing in front of her so that he first word isn't somethin' vulgar."

"You got me there, Rick. I'll do better. Promise. And if you wanna pick out a more appropriate name for her, go right ahead. But her real name will always be Little Fucker."

"Why am I the one pickin' it?"

"Because you're the one who wants her to have a new name! Plus I wanna see what big bad Rick Grimes picks to name a cute little kitten." He met Rick's scowl with a smug look. "C'mon, Sheriff Rick. I wanna see your face when you tell me to call that cat 'Cupcake' or 'Buttons' or some cute shi- _thing_ like that."

"Buttons works," Rick said quickly. "And you technically picked it, so...no teasin'." 

Negan rolled his eyes, but let it slide. "Fine, Rick. Buttons it is. Hope you're happy."

"I am," Rick replied smugly, nudging Negan's foot with his own. If Negan didn't know better, he'd say Rick was _flirting_ with him.

Negan scooted in a little closer, draping one arm over the back of the couch, pleased when Rick didn’t shy away. That was something he'd caught onto pretty fast with Rick- Negan's overt physical attention rarely seemed to bother him. Or, at the very least, it no longer bothered him because Negan wasn't using it as an intimidation tactic anymore. And since Carl was gone and they could talk openly, the closeness brought up a question that had been burning in the back of his mind since he’d first met Rick. It hadn’t been remotely appropriate to ask him then, and wouldn’t have been well-received, but now...

Now, it most likely would _still_ not go over well. But his odds were better, and Negan hated being patient, had never been one to hold his tongue. He was more of a bite-the-bullet-and-get-it-the-fuck-over-with kind of man.

“So, Rick,” he hummed, enjoying the way Rick’s eyes were so intensely focused on him when he spoke. “I gotta ask, because it looks like you got this big ol’ house all to yourself. You sleeping alone?”

Rick’s face immediately flushed a sweet shade of red, his blue eyes widening in shock. “I- why the hell would you-” he cleared his throat, dropping his eyes to his hands, which were twisting together in his lap. Negan smirked down at him and waited a moment until Rick’s gaze met his own again. “Why do you wanna know?”

Negan’s grin widened impossibly. “ _Rick_. C’mon, now, that’s kind of a stupid fucking question now, isn’t it?” He kept his voice low, both to keep Rick from changing the subject to his wearing and to maintain the intimate air the conversation had taken. Experimentally, he shifted a little closer on the couch, watching as Rick squirmed a bit but otherwise didn’t pull away. “You got somebody keepin’ you company late at night, Rick? Gorgeous guy like you, surely someone’s takin’ a taste.”

“No,” Rick said simply, seeming to find his footing again after Negan had sent him tumbling. “Nobody. I, ah. There was one- someone I thought that maybe…” Rick shook his head. “But we’re just friends. Didn’t ever come to anything.”

“Their loss,” Negan murmured, fixated on Rick’s lips as he spoke. The lower one was such an enticing shade of pink- it made him wonder what it would look like kiss-swollen and puffy.

Rick chuckled drily. “She’s doin’ fine without me.”

“So nobody, then? Not since your wife?”

Rick squirmed a little next to him, and the movement was so distracting that it took him a moment to realize that Rick had squirmed a little _closer_.

“No. Ah- not in my bed anyway.”

Negan bellowed a laugh at that. “Oh, _Rick!_ Where was it, then? Couch? In the kitchen? You get it on out on that cute porch swing of yours?”

Rick choked, his face growing pink again. “No! Not- it wasn’t like that. That’s not what I meant.” Negan quirked an eyebrow, encouraging him to explain, and Rick sighed. “Just meant that it hadn’t gotten…to the bedroom. We just kissed. Twice. A woman who lived here, Jessie.” Rick’s eyes clouded over, and Negan knew that look well enough to recognize guilt when he saw it. “She’s dead now. She and her two boys.”

Negan chanced reaching a hand out to nudge a stray curl back behind Rick’s ear. “Well, shit. I’m sorry, Rick. Sounds like you got some rough luck in that department.”

Rick winced. “Maybe. I don’t know. It probably wouldn’t have gone much further, anyway. It was complicated. She was sweet, and I was lonely and goin’ through a hard time adjusting to this place, and I kind of lost my head a little.”

Negan tilted his head down at Rick. “You lose your head a lot, Rick?”

Rick surprised him by smirking up at him. “Sometimes. Been known to deal with grief and change in interesting ways that not everybody is a fan of.” That was certainly enticing- a story for another day, perhaps. But right now, Negan was focused on Rick's lacking love life.

“This woman, Jessie…she the last time you let yourself go like that?”

“Yeah,” Rick said quietly.

“You wanna fix that?”

Rick sucked in a hitching breath, and Negan’s arm was suddenly around his shoulders, tugging him in closer. “Just a kiss, Rick. Live a little. Just give it a try. Get outta that pretty head of yours for two fucking seconds.”

“Just two seconds?” Rick teased, looking torn between nervousness and want.

“I can give you a lot more than that if you want it, Rick.” His thumb rubbed lightly at the younger man’s jawline, feeling the enticing drag of the short hairs there. Rick was gazing up at him, as open and trusting as Negan had ever seen him, and it made him want to cradle that trust gently while he absolutely _devoured_ him. “Let me show you how good it can be.”

Rick’s hand traced a warm line up his bicep to the curve of his neck, and Negan suppressed a satisfied shudder. _Fuck yes, give in, baby. C’mon…_

The first and only thought in Negan’s head when Rick’s lips met his in a chaste peck was that this had better last a _lot_ longer than two seconds.

Rick’s mouth parted from his just for a moment, like he needed a second to gather himself before he dove back in. A warm puff of breath against his lips, and then the distance between them vanished again.

As out of practice as Rick was, his kissing was no worse for it. He kissed like Negan had imagine he would so many times: sweet, a little shy at first, then with hunger as he got into it, tongue sliding into Negan’s mouth as they both gave low groans. Negan took his enthusiasm as invitation and wrapped his free arm around Rick’s waist, pulling him closer. Rick’s hands cupped the back of his neck, fingertips running along the sensitive skin there and making him grin into their kiss.

When Negan nipped lightly at Rick’s lower lip, the man practically _purred_ , and Negan filed that information away for a much later day. _Rick likes a little bit of teeth. Good to know._

Negan was lost in the wet sounds of their kiss that he didn’t remember the other two living things in the room with them until Rick was wrenching back with a surprised jump.

Little Fucker, in true interrupting-cat fashion, had taken it upon herself to jump up into Rick’s lap, much to the man’s surprise. Judith was staring right up at them from the floor, and Rick buried his face in his hands for a moment.

_Oh, fuck, he’s gonna lose his shit-_

Rick dissolved into snorts of laughter, shoulders shaking as the cat kneaded his thigh in a way that made Negan a touch jealous. “Well, good thing she can’t talk yet, huh?”

Negan grinned, relieved. “Sure is. So, uh. She takes naps right? She looks tired right now." Judith's wide blue eyes told a different story, but he elected to ignore that. "Maybe you should put her to bed. And then I can put _you_ to bed-”

Rick rolled his eyes and lifted the cat from his lap, passing her to Negan. “No. I mean _yes_ , she does take naps, but _no_ , you’re not taking me to bed.” He grinned at Negan’s dramatic pout. “Not today, at least. I, um. It’s been a while, you know. And you’re…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and Negan momentarily panicked thinking Rick would finish that sentence with _and you're the guy who's taking our supplies every week_. Luckily, he didn't. “I’m not saying no. But right now, that’s all I’m…I’m not looking to rush into anything I’ll regret.” He stooped to gather Judith in his arms, and Negan glared down at the cat in his lap even as she purred and stretched up to rub against his chin.

He wasn’t a patient man, but Rick Grimes was someone worth waiting for.

He stood with Little Fucker- _Buttons-_ perched on his shoulder in her usual place. He smoothed a hand over Rick’s hair, smiling down at him. “Of course, Rick. Take all the fuckin’ time you need.”

Rick squinted up at him, those light blue eyes feeling almost invasive in their intensity. “You’re different than I thought you’d be about this.”

Negan frowned. “That a good thing or a bad thing, Rick?”

Rick gave a furtive glance at the child in his arms before leaning up and pressing one last kiss to Negan’s lips. “Good thing. Definitely a good thing.”


End file.
